


For Gods and Country

by AceTrainerAlicia



Series: The Adventures of Jaina: A Faith Renewed [2]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Internal Conflict, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Politics, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceTrainerAlicia/pseuds/AceTrainerAlicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd been lucky to face the vampyre overlord himself and live, let alone win, and with an invasion of Misthalin on the horizon, she should be prepared to defend her homeland... but the adventurer who would be World Guardian still found herself hesitating, wondering what the right thing to do really was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Gods and Country

**Author's Note:**

> This particular fic is set just after The Lord of Vampyrium and immediately before River of Blood; it also takes place after Temple at Senntisten and before Ritual of the Mahjarrat. As such, it is still 169 of the Fifth Age, and Jaina is currently seventeen. Just clearing things up, as this fic comes chronologically before any of the others I've crossposted here to AO3 so far!

The small crescent moon, barely visible through the thick clouds in the night sky, provided the only light that shone over the upper tier of Darkmeyer. A chill wind blew past the towering gateway to the foreboding castle up ahead, and the adventurer instinctively gathered her black hooded cloak closer around her, shivering a little.

Why had she still done that, a part of her wondered? Her disguise was no more; what little was left of the Myreque now knew who she really was, and there was little point to hiding except to conceal her humanity from the vampyric denizens of Darkmeyer now. If Lord Lowerniel Drakan himself had known her true identity all along, then did that mean word had spread to the rest of the vyres as well? She didn’t think Vanescula would be inclined to go around telling all of them… but the way Ivan and Veliaf had reacted…

“Kreia, you…” The Myreque leader’s voice had been pained as he glared at her. “Is it not enough that… that that treacherous vampyre witch deceived us, that she had Safalaan so closely wrapped around her finger? You, too, felt the need to lie to me this whole time?”

“Veliaf, I had to conceal my identity from everyone in Morytania,” she’d pointed out. “Drakan knew that I was the one who killed Count Draynor some years back, in my youth, and even if I hadn’t done that, my reputation precedes me—if word had reached Darkmeyer that a famous adventurer and Legends’ Guild member was working with the Myreque, if people had started talking about that, surely Vanstrom would have hounded us much more aggressively! I would have caused more harm to the Myreque than good had I just waltzed in without a disguise and openly using my real name! And why is it so wrong of me to have hidden my identity, when you just said you made up that Calsidiu fellow for the sake of morale?”

“I don’t know, a famous hero could’ve been just what we all needed,” Ivan had remarked, frowning deeply. “I would have been inspired to know that one was fighting by my side this whole time…”

“We were comrades in arms, Kreia—no, Jaina. We had no one but one another to rely on, with our very lives at risk at every turn… Yet you still lied to me!” Veliaf’s raised voice and dark glare had sent shivers through her. “You did not even trust me with your real name; you did not trust that we could have kept your identity secret if you wished…” He’d guiltily turned his gaze to the floor, seemingly struggling to hold back tears. “Just… go, both of you… Go! Leave me be…”

Of course, it was understandable why Veliaf had been so upset—he had lost everything, had to watch as all his friends and comrades died one by one. What he needed most was time to mourn and recollect himself, time she fervently hoped he would not be denied. But surely he should understand why she’d hidden her identity, and that it had been the most reasonable thing to do for her own sake—and the Myreque’s sake?

Well, there wasn’t much point to thinking too much about the matter now. Perhaps, she thought as a pair of vyrewatch guards carried her and Sarius Guile up to the castle rooftop, one could say that Kreia Fel of the Myreque had died with the others fighting Drakan, and only Jaina Katarn of Lumbridge had survived. Perhaps, she thought, it was better that way—she must steel her resolve and confront Vanescula as her real self.

No sooner had the vyrewatch guard set her down on the rooftop than Sarius beckoned, looking a little impatient. “Follow me,” she whispered, and set off at a surprisingly brisk pace for an old woman in the service of vampyres. Jaina pulled her cloak tighter around her and followed, hoping that it would be a short walk and any vyre nobles they passed by wouldn’t stop her.

Sarius led her down a flight of stairs and into a small study, urging her through the doorway before her. A sharp chill surged through Jaina as she lowered her hood and found herself gazing back at the piercing ruby eyes of Vanescula Drakan.

The stately, regal vyre raised an eyebrow sharply as she scrutinized her visitor. “I expected you would come looking for me, Jaina Katarn of Lumbridge,” she said brusquely, drawing herself up straighter in her chair. “And I already know what you are going to say first—it is either ‘How dare you betray us, vampyre scum,’ or ‘did you know who I really was the whole time?’”

She raised a hand warningly before Jaina could speak up, and then continued. “First off, yes, I did suspect your true identity from the start. Certainly the news of my brother Victor’s death at the hands of a twelve-year-old human child has been common knowledge for some time, and the bounty on your head was raised considerably when you killed that fool Dessous. Speaking of which—” she locked her gaze quite suddenly with the adventurer’s—“I also highly suspect that you are a Zarosian.”

Jaina froze where she stood, turning pale. “How did you—”

“There is only one reason a human would have specifically sought out and slain Dessous,” Vanescula pointed out, “and that is to claim the diamond of blood, so that you might free Azzanadra. Ever since that fool agreed to guard the diamond, we knew it would be his undoing—I knew, my brothers knew, the vyre nobles knew, and Dessous’ own brother very well knew. Why do you think he assisted you with the task?”

“Brother?” Jaina blinked, still shivering from that piercing stare. “Do you mean Lord Malak?”

“Precisely,” Vanescula said, nodding sternly. “Malak had been jealous of his brother for quite some time, desiring his lands for himself, and that envy only grew the more Dessous became obsessed with the diamond. After a few centuries of possessing it, the cretin had become so blindly obsessed with it that he shut himself in a tomb in order to better guard it—and, of course, in becoming attuned to its power, he had inadvertently become vulnerable. Naturally, Malak merely needed a Zarosian loyalist who would seek the accursed diamond to get Dessous out of the way for him, so he would not have to suffer the consequences of killing him personally!”

Jaina frowned uncertainly, realizing that Malak must’ve stolen the diamond from Dessous’ tomb just before she arrived, as Vanescula continued. “Of course, even if it weren’t obvious why you killed Dessous, you most assuredly did not learn ice magic from any Saradominist wizards. Nor did you learn Infernal curses from any Saradominist priest.”

The purple-haired mage stood frozen there, trembling. Should she tell the truth? Most of the vampyres did not seem to care much about Zamorak, so Vanescula probably wouldn’t care much about Zaros either—on the other hand, could she have her publicly outed, and would she do so as revenge for going against her? Regardless, Jaina doubted she could convincingly lie—and she couldn’t let her unease overcome her now. She needed to stay strong, keep her head high, be confident and not show anxiety or fright.

She took a deep breath, and her voice was firm and clear when she spoke. “Yes. I am Zarosian.” She’d never thought she could ever work up the nerve to say that outright, and a knot was already forming in her stomach—but she did her best to ignore it; she had to keep up her clear steady courage. “What does that have to do with the fact that you want to invade my country? I am a Zarosian, but I am also a citizen of Misthalin, and I can’t just stand idly by while vampyric legions swarm into my homeland!”

“I do not concern myself with silly religious rivalries the way humans so often do,” Vanescula said, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Your faith is merely significant in that it means you should understand that I did not betray you, that the only way forward is to free us all from this accursed land—humans and vyres alike! Safalaan understood this; you of all people should understand as well!”

“I understand that part,” said Jaina, looking uncertainly down at the floor. “It’s… hard to imagine that humans and vyres could live alongside one another without humans being enslaved, but… if it could be possible… if it was possible once…” She shook her head, straightening her shoulders as she looked up again. “But invasion by force? That isn’t going to encourage humans to want to live alongside vyres, even if they lived side by side in the empire—and how can I trust that the vyres won’t just turn my hometown into another Meiyerditch?”

Vanescula’s eyes blazed, flashing red. “Do you think all vyres are as brutish and uncivilized as Lowerniel?” she snapped. “The nobles now ultimately answer to me, you know; do you think I will not be informing them fully of everything? Do you think there aren’t nobles still living who are old enough to remember how things were in the empire? As for the invasion, do you propose a better plan? I doubt your king would agree to allow my kind to migrate over the Salve peacefully and integrate with the humans. No, this is the only way, and you know it as well as I.”

“Lady Vanescula, you cannot discount the resolve and determination of humankind,” Jaina pointed out. “Should the invasion succeed, they will do everything in their power to overthrow the vyres! There’s no way they’ll look past their hatred or their fear of ending up like the people of Morytania! And turning more vyres will do more harm than good—if there’s truly a shortage of blood, more vyres will just make that situation worse!”

“And risk appearing weak to our enemies? When they would no doubt take the opportunity to wipe us out? The shortage will matter little in the long run anyhow, as soon we will leave Morytania behind for good.” Vanescula scowled indignantly, her eyes hard as rubies. “Furthermore, if they are truly so blinded by prejudice and hatred as you say, then your blind patriotism will certainly prove your undoing.” She locked her gaze squarely with Jaina’s again. “I saw the shock in your eyes, smelled the fear in your blood as your pulse quickened, as you realized I knew your faith. You clearly know exactly how most humans would react if they ever found out—and I’m quite sure the Saradominist magical institutions already have an opinion on your usage of deadly ancient magic, do they not?”

The adventurer looked down at her hands, unable to withstand that piercing stare for long. “Well, the Tower wizards are too superstitious to even allow my transcription of the spellbook to be carried in their library… and I’ve seen quite a few priests and monks get intimidated when they look at me…”

“Not surprising,” Vanescula huffed, rolling her eyes. “If the humans of Misthalin already fear you simply for knowing and using magic they hate and fear, what do you think they will do if they learn you have sworn allegiance to the ‘god of darkness and evil?’ The very king and country you now so blindly serve will turn against you in a heartbeat—it will not matter what you have done in the service of Misthalin; your faith alone will be enough to tarnish your reputation and turn you from a celebrated hero into a target with a bounty on your head!” She sighed deeply. “I see why you would have reservations about us crossing the Salve, but you are a fool to espouse such patriotism to a kingdom that would turn on you over something as petty as a religion—nations come and go in such a short time anyway, and change is inevitable regardless if it is through war or not.”

“I…” Jaina trailed off, at a loss for what to say next. Vanescula had a point—would she be exiled or executed if she were found out? Most people still didn’t even know Zaros existed, but a few fanatical Saradominists would… She wasn’t breaking any laws, but even if King Roald understood that, there was still that awful advisor of his. Would she be thrown into prison or hunted down by archers with mage-killing crossbows? At best, she might be handed over to the church of Saradomin for them to punish or try to convert her as they wished, and she doubted the priests and monks would act too kindly towards a “dangerous evil-worshipping witch,” as they would undoubtedly deem her.

“To tell you the truth, m’lady,” she finally said, “I’m not sure what to do yet…”

“We do not need to make enemies of one another, Jaina. Whatever you may think of me, I hold no grudge against you.” The graceful vyrelady’s gaze was austere, and her voice was quiet and even. “Just know that sooner or later, you will have to make a crucial decision—your faith, or your country. Zaros, or Misthalin—which is more important to you? Those two forces will inevitably come into conflict; you cannot divide your loyalties between them forever. I hope you understand that—and that I have done what is necessary for the survival of my kind and will continue to do so.”

Jaina stood there quietly, looking down at her hands once more. Now she was even more confused about what she should do next—she was still sure she needed to bring the word to King Roald, but a part of her wondered if that would directly cause the vyres to die off, or if it would be un-Zarosian to try to keep them apart from humans. On the one hand, it would be cruel, heartless, and treasonous not to go to the king and let the vampyres catch the kingdom off-guard… on the other, would the subsequent efforts to halt the invasion and drive them back spell the doom of vyrekind? She didn’t want to be responsible for the annihilation of a whole race any more than she wanted to go against her country or let Varrock and Lumbridge become second Meiyerditches… and she didn’t want to ruin the possibility of their races being able to live side by side, make it more impossible than it already seemed, either.

She stepped back, politely inclining her head. “I wish you good health.”

~***~

As she slid deftly down the rope into the restored temple, Jaina couldn’t ignore the growing itch in her mind urging her to hurry up and inform King Roald of everything. Much as her gut feeling told her that it was the right and necessary thing to do, she was still worried about the vyres’ well-being, still contemplating what Vanescula had said. As dear as her homeland was to her, was Misthalin truly worth wholeheartedly defending, wiping out a whole race in the process—especially if everyone really would turn against her for her faith? Surely a little guidance would help clear up her confusion, point her in the right direction.

Quietly she walked into the temple chamber, and sure enough, there stood her mentor before the altar, his head bowed and a contemplative, prayerful expression on his rugged face. What he might be asking Zaros for, she wasn’t sure—to protect the remaining faithful? For the knowledge and resources needed to ensure his return? For the strength to crush the enemy and see the empire restored?

The red-haired man swiftly turned, seemingly hearing her approach, and adjusted his feathered hat as he came forward to greet her. “You are here earlier than usual today, Jaina.”

“Good morning, Azzanadra.” She smiled warmly at him. “Well, not too early, it seems! I figured you might be an early riser anyway.”

“Indeed, my role necessitated that I begin the day’s tasks at sunrise at the very least, often several hours before. Even many other priests were rather baffled as to how I managed it so well!”

Jaina felt her smile grow even brighter, but that nagging urge to go to the king reminded her that she should save the usual sort of questions for later. “Much as I would love to ask you more about what the empire was like,” she said, her smile fading, “I have a more urgent matter to discuss.”

Taking a deep breath, she recounted her involvement with the Myreque, up to the harrowing journey to escape the castle and her battle with Lord Drakan. “I still don’t quite know how I managed to make it out alive,” she remarked, shivering a little.

“My, you do continue to prove yourself with remarkable deeds!” Azzanadra’s eyes lit up. “Lowerniel Drakan was a force to be reckoned with, as fierce and brutal as he was powerful… the last time I encountered him, it had been some time since the last Ritual, and I could not afford to waste too much of my power fighting him.” Shaking his head, he frowned deeply for a moment, but then looked up once more and smiled proudly at Jaina. “That you could take him on and win speaks volumes of your own skill! Never did I think a human would be capable of such a feat…”

Jaina couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a soothing warmth spread through her as she felt his bright eyes gaze at her. He was always so charming when he smiled… She hadn’t imagined she’d ever befriend a Mahjarrat, but then again, she’d never thought that penguins would be clever enough to try to take over the world, or that she could have fought the cruel vampyre overlord himself and won, either. Perhaps their friendship was solid proof that even more monstrous races really could live together with humans once more, someday?

On the other hand, she had only seen Azzanadra so far—well, aside from their first encounter, anyway—in the guise of a young, ruggedly handsome human archaeologist; she knew his true form would be massive, intimidating, and hideous. She surmised that he would show her his true form whenever he wished, so there was no need to ask him about it… but would she still feel as at ease around him when he towered over her as a monstrous skeletal thing with glowing red eyes?

Well, she realized, why should she suddenly fear him if and when she saw his true form? Simply because he would appear frightening instead of handsome? Whatever he looked like, he would still be her friend, and of course he would treat her the same way regardless. She should extend the same courtesy to him, shouldn’t think less of him for simply having an ugly or fearsome natural appearance; just because some of his race were just as ugly on the inside as on the outside didn’t mean all of them were… besides, there were more important things to dwell on at the moment.

“I guess I managed to win because everyone was counting on me, and I had to stay determined to succeed,” she said. “The lives of the Myreque weren’t the only cost the victory came at, though, and we’re far from out of the woods.”

She proceeded to tell him about the planned invasion and what Vanescula had said. “I’m still not sure what to do,” she finished, looking uncertainly at the portal. “My gut’s been urging me to go tell the king right away, but I don’t want to be responsible for killing off a whole race… and if humans could really have lived side by side with vyres and even demons in the empire… it’s still hard to fathom, but if it could be possible again… but I don’t want to get my neighbors enslaved like the citizens of Meiyerditch in the vain hope that it might achieve a pipe dream…”

Azzanadra’s eyes narrowed sharply. “That Vanescula… She has a lot of nerve trying to use your faith to sway you to her side!” His gaze softened slightly into a more concerned look. “You must not be swayed into thinking she is truly Zarosian. Do not forget that when the holy city was besieged, when the faithful were in their greatest time of need, she was off with her brothers, aiding the cause of the traitors! There were indeed vampyres who actually were loyal, who did stay and fight… who bravely gave their lives in the service of Zaros. She, on the other hand, was quite happy to go along with her brother when the usurper promised him land!”

“I knew she didn’t care about Zaros,” Jaina said quietly, biting her lip. “She did tell me as much. But she does actually seem to care about the well-being of her race, at least…”

“She may,” Azzanadra said gravely, “but you do indeed have the right idea. You must inform the king of the invasion, ensure the citizens are prepared—the consequences for allowing it to proceed unhindered and take the kingdom by surprise are too great. Should it succeed, I may be forced to leave lest my disguise be compromised—and who knows what would happen if the vampyres gain access to the portal? They would surely defile this holy place, profane it, either way—and after all the hard work that went into restoring it and the portal…” He sighed, visibly saddened at the very thought. “So Vanescula wishes for the vyres to be cultured and civilized… she would do well to remember that it was our lord who taught them to be so in the first place.”

Why had she not thought of all that before? She should have definitely considered what would happen to the temple, to the whole Digsite… and she doubted the faithful would want to be tithed in order to pray in the temple; the vyres would definitely take advantage of that if it crossed their minds.

“I guess I knew what was right all along,” she remarked, a sense of relief washing over her, “but what do you think will happen to the vyres? And, well, I can’t help but wonder if Vanescula was right about some things. The desert faithful have been hoping their whole lives to return to Senntisten and rebuild it, but I don’t see that happening without overthrowing King Roald and instilling Zarosian leadership… and, of course, we still can’t openly worship… Am I truly going to have to go against my country for the sake of my faith?”

“I would still prefer not to resort to violence and bloodshed; such a takeover would draw too much undue attention, and there would be backlash,” Azzanadra pointed out, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Furthermore, that is more of a matter to be considered after Zaros returns, so you must not trouble yourself with it too much! However, you must indeed be wary—there is always the chance that we may be discovered, and you may well have to fight for your life! The Saradominist forces could be just as cruel and relentless as those of the traitors’ in their efforts to hunt down and destroy the faithful.”

He adjusted his hat again, straightening one of the large feathers neatly tucked into it. “As for the vyres, it is difficult to predict what will become of them. I suspect most are clever enough to survive if things truly do become dire for them—just do not blame yourself for whatever becomes of them. You are not responsible for their actions—there are many factors beyond our control that will influence what happens to them after this battle, but as their leader, Vanescula is far more responsible for their fate than you could possibly be.”

Jaina could only nod, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “So there’s not much I can do for them besides pray that our lord watches over everyone and guides them down the right path? And that one day our races will live side by side once more?”

“Precisely.” Azzanadra nodded quietly. “However, time is of the essence, Jaina. Let us speak further after you have spoken to the king—if you return to me and tell me how he plans to combat the invasion, we can better prepare for the coming battle.”

“I understand; I’ll return soon enough!” The purple-haired adventurer smiled graciously at him. “I want to thank you for being such a great help—I really needed it.”

“It was little trouble, and it was wise of you to come to me.” Azzanadra offered her a reassuring smile. “We shall see each other again soon enough!”

Jaina nodded and bowed her head to the altar, offering a silent prayer that humans and vyres might one day learn to live together once more. Then, waving goodbye to Azzanadra, she headed out of the temple.

When she had climbed back to the Digsite surface, she quickly adjusted her bag and hurried to leap over the fence, taking off running towards Varrock’s east gate. Breezing past the guards with no time to even salute them as she passed, she ran through the streets, skirting around passing people and stray dogs and nearly tripping a few times as she did so.

She could hear the palace guards gasp in surprise as she rushed up the castle steps, and as she finally burst into the throne room, she had to stop to catch her breath, panting as she clutched her aching stomach.

King Roald frowned concernedly as he stared at her. “What news do you bring? I assume it must be urgent indeed.”

Jaina gasped for breath and quickly straightened herself up, smoothing her skirt out before she curtsied deeply. “Your Majesty, I bring urgent news from Morytania!”

The king’s brow furrowed worriedly, and his frown grew deeper as he nodded. “Go on.”

“I bring good news and bad news,” she answered, keeping her gaze focused on the king’s regal bearings and doing her best to ignore the cold stare Aeonisig Raispher was giving her. “The good news is that Lord Drakan is dead. It was no easy task, but we have slain him!”

“By Saradomin’s beard! That is good news indeed.” King Roald smiled proudly. “When this is all over, we must find a way to thank the Myreque—Aeonisig, take a note!”

Jaina shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but the bad news… well, the bad news is that the cost of the victory was great. The Myreque are no more—all of them, dead. There were only two survivors, not counting myself.” She glanced briefly down at her hands, shivering a little at the memory, and then looked up at the king again. “Most urgently of all—with Lord Drakan dead, his sister has taken power in his place—and she plans to invade Misthalin!”

“No matter,” Raispher scoffed, shaking his head. “The Salve will protect us, as it has for so long!”

“About that…” Jaina shook her head emphatically. “No, it’s not enough anymore—Vanescula found a way for the vampyres to cross!”

King Roald looked alarmed, but Raispher merely shot her a skeptical look and spoke up again. “Now hang on there! We’ve done all we can by enacting the mercenary protocol—any further action and we risk breaking the Edicts of Guthix.”

Jaina couldn’t help but reflexively clench her hand into a fist. What was with this man and his steadfast insistence on doing as little as possible about the threats from Morytania anyway? Did he think the people of Morytania deserved to be food slaves to the vyres, or turned into vyres themselves, because they might not necessarily be Saradominist? What did he know of the Edicts anyway? She had never been quite sure what they actually did mean, but she was sure that defending one’s country wouldn’t be breaking them—and no one would even be fighting in the name of religion anyway, so it wouldn’t be upsetting the balance.

“Tell that to the werewolves crossing the Salve,” she snapped, glaring back at the old priest. “Tell that to the Zamorakian/Saradominist splinter group I uncovered. Everyone else is already—” she quickly stopped herself from saying “allegedly”—“breaking the Edicts! If we do not act now, by the time the vyres arrive, it will be too late! Would you allow this very city to be converted into another Meiyerditch, see the citizens enslaved to the vyres, in the name of not breaking the Edicts?”

King Roald’s eyebrows shot straight up. “What’s this about werewolves and splinter groups? Aeonisig, is there any truth to this?”

“Erm…” Raispher gave a nervous gulp, his sheepish expression like that of a young child whose mother had just caught him with one hand in the cookie jar. “There have been reports, my liege, nothing substantiated… and this so-called splinter group? Merely rabble, nothing more… Are you sure we should even trust her word? She could be plotting against you, or perhaps she was even working with the vampyres this whole time!”

King Roald stared at him in bafflement. “Where did you get that ridiculous idea?”

“Her actions speak volumes,” Raispher insisted, shooting Jaina a steely glower. “Consider how she uses dangerous and unholy magic that could wipe out entire platoons of soldiers, how said dangerous magic is now available in our very library—thanks to her—for any depraved cur to read about and learn for themselves! We were foolish to even trust a heathen witch to be our eyes and ears in that evil land. She could very well be leading us astray, so that we might break the Edicts unwittingly!”

Jaina turned pale, feeling her still aching stomach clutch as a chill surged through her. Had someone outed her? Had an agent of Vanescula anticipated she would go to the king and outed her to Raispher? Or did he merely think her use of ancient spells made her evil or too dangerous to control, or that she had signed a contract with a demon to learn them or something? Was he going to convince the king to have her imprisoned or executed?

“Aeonisig, stop.” The king’s tone was calm and even, yet harsh and angry, and he was fixing the old advisor with a chilling warning glare. “Jaina is a faithful citizen, whether she follows Saradomin or otherwise, whether she uses unconventional magic or otherwise. She has dutifully served our kingdom all this time, and the cause of the Myreque as well—she was even gracious and patient enough to assist with my wife’s garden, which is an impressive feat in and of itself! If she were truly working with the vyres, why would she have informed us of the incoming invasion, when it would have been beneficial to let them take us off guard?”

Raispher paused, sweat beading on his brow. “To impart false strategies, so that the army would be led astray and ambushed from behind?”

“If you are going to lie to me, Aeonisig, do not tarnish the good name of my subjects in doing so,” King Roald snapped, his glare intensifying. “Why did you not inform me of these things?”

“Your time is precious, my liege,” Raispher protested, his voice quavering a bit. “I did not think it worth bringing to your attention…”

“It is not your place to determine such things!” the king practically roared, and Jaina shrank back instinctively, trembling. “Prepare a detachment to be sent to Paterdomus as soon as possible!”

“B-but, my liege…” Raispher barely squeaked, “the Edicts…”

“Damn the Edicts! Do it now, or the only advice you’ll be giving out is which flowers my wife should be planting next!” The king’s face was so red that it practically matched his tunic. “Keep them on this side of the Salve for now, but afterwards, you and I will be having a little chat.”

He watched Raispher hastily nod and hurry off, his harsh gaze never leaving the old priest until he was gone. Taking a moment to calm down and compose himself, he smoothed his tunic and turned to Jaina once more. “Please, Jaina, do not be so frightened. I have no reason to believe such ludicrous allegations against you—I commend you for your good work!”

She felt a sense of relief wash over her, half because Raispher had left, half because she was still in good standing with the king. Part of her still wondered how long that would last, but she shouldn’t fixate too much on her worries just now.

“I—I thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “But what of the people of Morytania? Vanescula said she’s planning to turn more vyres, so that’s likely what will happen to them if they don’t get help…”

“Unfortunately I cannot risk sending a force into the heart of Morytania; Varrock’s army is not what it once was.” King Roald lowered his eyes, heaving a sorrowful sigh. “We have no choice but to make our stand at Paterdomus. However… perhaps the work of a lone spy behind enemy lines could help? You’ve made such great strides already; I can think of no one better for such a task!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Jaina politely bowed her head. “It definitely won’t be easy, though; my disguise was compromised, and Vanescula and those who remain of the Myreque know my true identity now. I’m not sure how effective a new disguise would be…”

“Perhaps even a temporary new disguise would serve your purpose well,” the king stated, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “I am positive that if anyone can accomplish this, it is you—but we have much preparing to do now. May the light of Saradomin guide your path and see you through the danger ahead!”

Ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine, Jaina gave him her most gracious smile. “I wish you good health. May… may Guthix bring you balance.”

She curtsied deeply once more and set off on her way, wondering just how much of a close call that had really been. It was extremely fortunate that, if she really was going to have to choose between her faith and her country, that today was not that day. Zaros willing, that day would not be for a very long time—for now, she needed to worry about the immediate fate of Misthalin, and be prepared to help defend it if need be. She could only hope that the loss of life, both of humans and vyres, would not be too drastic.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wasn't planning to do this one, but then The Lord of Vampyrium got the wheels in my head turning, and I really wanted to write this in anticipation of River of Blood! So you get to be taken back to the Fifth Age and see an earlier Jaina! Oh, Jaina, if only you knew you'd have much, much bigger fish to fry later down the road...
> 
> If it seems a bit OP for twelve-year-old Jaina to fight Count Draynor, well, she was a magical prodigy and unusually skilled for her age at that point. As far as the disguise is concerned, I realized that a very famous adventurer, especially one with very distinctive and easily seen technicolor hair, would draw a lot of undue attention in Morytania (I even remember laughing while navigating Meiyerditch in-game because of how really bleeding obvious Jaina's model looked, and even joked to myself about how she was hiding from the vyres in plain sight!)
> 
> While I was at it, I threw in a bit of Desert Treasure headcanon, which does take a couple liberties. I always wondered what the deal with Malak and Dessous was--if the diamond guardians were all weak to a certain type of elemental magic because they were attuned to the diamonds, then Malak can't have been the true guardian because Dessous was the one with the elemental weakness. Even if you consider the ritual to weaken him, garlic, silver, and Saradomin's blessing still aren't enough to negate the sixth sense that lets stronger vyres evade most weapons--so either Dessous is indeed the guardian, or he would've had to have been impervious to everything except the Ivandis flail and blisterwood. I also got to wondering more about what Malak's motivations might have been, and, well, a headcanon was born!
> 
> I had to be careful writing the parts with Azzy, since the romance isn't a thing yet and Jaina isn't seriously attracted to him yet at this point in the timeline. Writing backwards is harder than writing chronologically in some ways... She does still have a few prejudices that she needs to grow past as well!
> 
> The scene with King Roald is mostly all canon dialogue, but I still tried to make it a bit different/a bit more than that. I apologize if Raispher seems too over-the-top in his unpleasant fanaticism, but I do think he's acting in-character--he really is that far off the deep end, and it makes sense that he would very strongly disapprove of use of the ancient spellbook.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!


End file.
